A Vow of Vengeance

Aliyana’s POV

I don’t know how long I screamed.

My throat was raw, every sound scraping like glass against stone. My fists pounded against the heavy wooden door until the skin split and bled, until my knuckles burned and my bones felt close to breaking but still, I didn’t stop.

I screamed for my father. I screamed for my mother. I screamed for my sister. And I screamed for Luke.

But no one came. Not even my wolf that went dormant since the death of my mother.

Not a guard. Not a maid. Not even my father.

Only silence answered me. Silence, and the echo of Luke’s last breath replaying in my mind.

When my strength finally gave out, I slid down the door in my ruined wedding dress, the silk pooling around me like a shroud. I crawled to the dresser, tearing through drawers in desperation, searching for scissors, for anything sharp enough to cut the cursed gown from my body. But they were empty. Of course they were. My father had made sure I had nothing that could free me.

So I ripped the gown apart with my bare hands, clawing at the seams until it came apart in jagged strips. When I collapsed on the bed, my chest heaved, every breath too heavy, every second too long.

The walls seemed to close in, pressing tighter, suffocating me. The air was thick, cloying.

But it wasn’t fear that made me tremble. It was rage.

Fury so sharp it hollowed me out from the inside, leaving nothing but fire where my heart should be.

He killed him.

The memory stabbed through me again, Luke’s chest jerking as Nolan’s blade pierced him. His eyes, wide with shock, finding mine. His lips formed my name but no sound escaped. And then the blood, so much blood—soaking his shirt.

I could still smell it. I could still feel the weight of his body as it crumpled into my arms. He didn’t kill him with an ordinary steel sword, but with a sword made of silver.

The crowd’s collective gasp still rang in my ear.

I could still see Nolan’s face, cold and unbothered, as if killing the man I loved meant nothing at all.

I curled on the floor, staring at the tattered wedding dress where Luke’s blood stained the fabric. I had tried to stop the bleeding, pressing my hands against the wound, whispering prayers through sobs, begging the Goddess to take me instead.

But the Goddess had ignored me.

A day passed. Or maybe it was two. Or three.

I couldn’t tell anymore.

Time blurred into one endless ache. I barely ate, barely drank. I drifted in and out of a half-dazed sleep, waking only to the nightmare of remembering. Each time, the grief hit fresh, tearing me apart like I was reliving it all over again.

Food trays came and went. I didn’t touch them.

No one came to check on me. Not my mother. Not my sister. Not my father.

The Hastings name meant nothing now. I was no one’s daughter, no one’s sister. Only a pawn chained to Nolan Greyson’s will.

Maybe I wasn’t even alive anymore. I was still in the Hastlings estate, yet it felt like I no longer had a home.

.

.

On the second night, the silence broke.

The lock clicked.

I stumbled to my feet, unsteady but ready, my hands curled into fists though I had no strength left.

Nolan filled the doorway.

Tall. Broad. The black of his shirt melted into the shadows, his silver eyes catching the moonlight like a predator’s. He looked at me, not like a man, but like a hunter who’d cornered his prey.

“You look terrible,” he said. His voice was calm, unbothered. He might as well have been commenting on the weather. His gaze swept over me slowly, deliberately, as though cataloging the damage grief had done.

“Get out,” I rasped. My voice cracked, but the hatred in it was sharp enough to cut.

He took a step in, closing the door behind him with a soft click. The sound was louder than thunder in my ears.

“That’s not how a wife should greet her husband,” he murmured.

“You’re not my husband.” My voice gained strength from the fire of my anger. “You’re a murderer. A monster.”

Something flickered in his eyes at the word. No shame. No regret. Just… interest.

“Monster,” he repeated softly, as if trying it on. “Do you think that word wounds me? It doesn’t.”

“I don’t care if it wounds you,” I snapped. “I care that you killed him. That you slaughtered the only man I ever—” My throat closed up. I forced the words through. “The only man I ever loved.”

Nolan stepped closer. His presence filled the room, choking out the air.

“He chose his fate the moment he drew steel against me.”

“Don’t you dare call it a duel.” My voice rose, raw and cracked. “It was murder. You never even gave him a chance!”

Faster than I could move, his hand shot out. His fingers gripped my chin, forcing my face up to his. His touch burned, not with heat but with power, the kind that could crush me without effort.

“Listen carefully, Aliyana.” His voice was a low growl, each word precise, sharp. “The weak die. The strong survive. That is the only law this world respects.”

I jerked my head, but his grip only tightened, bruising my jaw. Tears burned hot in my eyes, not of fear, but fury.

“You think strength is killing a man who never stood a chance against you?” I spat through clenched teeth. “That doesn’t make you strong. That makes you a coward.”

For a second, just a second, something flared in his eyes. A shadow of rage. He squeezed harder, and for one terrifying moment I thought he might snap my neck.

Then he released me.

I stumbled back, clutching my bruised chin, glaring up at him with every ounce of hatred I had left.

“I’m going to kill you,” I whispered, my voice trembling but steady enough to freeze him in place.

His brows lifted. A cruel smile tugged at his lips. “You?”

I forced my shoulders straight, even though I was shaking. “I swear it, Nolan Greyson. On my mother’s grave, on Luke’s blood, on everything you’ve stolen from me, I will see you fall. Everything you love, everything you built, I will burn to ash. And then I will put a blade through your heart.”

My voice shook, but I didn’t care. I thought of Luke’s smile beneath the orchard trees, of his hand brushing against my cheek, of the way he swore that not Alphas, not kingdoms, not even the Moon Goddess herself could take me from him.

He had kept that promise with his life. And now it was mine to finish.

“Nothing will take me from you, Luke,” I whispered into the silence, tasting blood and salt on my tongue.

“Not even death. I’ll carry you with me until the day I drive a blade into Nolan Greyson’s heart.”

Silence stretched between us. His silver eyes burned into mine, unreadable. Then, slowly, he laughed.

Not a warm laugh. Not even a cruel one. Something darker. Amusement. Thrill. As if I had just given him the one thing he had been waiting for.

He leaned down until his mouth brushed my ear, his voice a whisper that seared into me.

“Aliyana Hastings,” he murmured, “I welcome you to try.”

He stepped back, smirking, then strode toward the door. At the threshold he paused, his hand resting on the frame.

“When you tire of starving yourself,” he said without turning, “You may come out. Until then… sit in your grief. Sit in your rage. It suits you.”

The door closed. The lock clicked.

The sound hollowed me out all over again. But this time, something new burned in the emptiness.

Resolve.

He thought I was harmless. He thought grief would break me. But grief hadn’t broken me. It had forged me. And one day, I was going to make Nolan Greyson bleed.